Page 32 of The Cottage in the Highlands

Once we exited the lift, we were greeted by another security guard who welcomed us into a huge suite decked out in purple satin. Enormous Roman urns of purple and white flowers were stationed at the entrance, as well as in each corner of the room.

Images were being played out on a large rectangular screen at the far end, showing a lovely young woman drifting around in a castle, sporting the most glorious transparent skin I had ever seen in my life.

I caught sight of my own preoccupied face in one of the mirrored columns and reached for a glass of water from one of the passing waiters. I could do with some hydration myself.

Just a matter of weeks ago, I was reporting on missing wheelie bins, gulls pinching tourists’ chips, and the possible closure of the local library.

There was a sudden burst of enthusiastic applause that made me almost drop my glass of water. When I turned with the assembled throng, I realised that Tilly Crabtree had emerged from behind the purple curtains and was holding court.

She kept tossing back her cloud of dark hair and baring her teeth like she wanted to bite somebody.

She threw her hands wide, like she was about to deliver everyone from salvation. “Welcome to the launch of Glorious!”

Once the excited applause had died down, Tilly reeled off a spiel about what it meant to her to bring such a wonderful product to the masses.

I was more fascinated by how her forehead didn’t move, even though her eyebrows did.

“Glorious is the new make-up revolution,” she breathed, prowling up and down the glittery stage. “No matter how old you are, how young you are, this foundation will bring you joy.”

Not as much as a night with Henry Cavill would, I thought to myself.

A waiter meandered past with a tray of champagne flutes and I decided I needed something like that to keep me going. I had the feeling I would be here for a while yet.

“Here, madam, have a complimentary gift, courtesy of Ms Crabtree,” grinned a woman with a swinging ponytail, handing it to me.

“Thank you.”

When she vanished in a cloud of heady perfume, I placed my glass of champagne on a nearby high table to take a closer look.

It comprised of a purple satin drawstring bag. Inside, amongst a scattering of flowery confetti, was an array of extravagant freebies: a rose-gold Swarovski powder compact, gold-flecked hand cream, and a silver lipstick holder studded with diamonds. There were also a couple of Tilly Crabtree branded eye shadows.

I let out a gasp, like a child on Christmas morning. Bloody hell! Goodness knows what each of these complimentary bags cost.

“Ms Leonie Baxter?” came a husky female voice across the top of the crowd. “Is there a Ms Leonie Baxter from Goddess magazine here please?”

I snatched up my glass of fizz and took a huge gulp. No doubt I would need it. I shoved my goodie bag under my right arm. “Hello. Yes, that’s me.”

Heads turned as I slid my hand up into the air.

“Can you follow me please?” smiled the ponytailed woman of before. “I was told you have an appointment with Ms Crabtree to experience the revolution that is Glorious?”

“Er… yes. That’s right.”

“Then please follow me.”

We weaved our way through the chattering crowd and passed the still running advert of the woman drifting around the castle. At least her skin was perfect, even if she did appear to be trapped in there.

The swinging ponytailed lady led me to the right, past another swathe of curtains and more security guards and into a separate room set out with indigo furniture and a dazzling showbiz mirror with light bulbs shining around it.

“Welcome! Welcome!” breezed Tilly. “You must be Leonie.”

We shook hands.

“Athena is such a great friend of mine. Isn’t she a marvel?”

“Isn’t she just?” I managed through a rictus grin.

“Coffee? Tea? Merlot? Green tea?”